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Robert Scott Petranek

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Song Of the Universe
by Robert Scott Petranek
Friday, July 25, 2008
Rated "PG" by the Author.
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Recent poems by Robert Scott Petranek
•  Canadian Haiku
•  Harvest Time
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           >> View all 33

Ours is the struggle against age, and chaos... it is what our lives are, ultimately, (and only) about.

 

The Song of the Universe

Once built, all great things must fall.

The greatest buildings on earth will crumble, the tallest trees shall one day be felled, by hand of man or hand of God, the greatest of the great rivers, one day,

will ...

run dry.

We are all just humble renters here.

We sprall out at a tempo that keeps us ever ahead of gravity,

But just by paces, Just by steps... Now.

And it is a constant of flux, The order of things

Circles circle circles.

We obey the laws of nature, laws of existence itself

It is our nature, and there is no choice

But, there is so much happening here we cannot see

the rumble and the rhythm

Secret roads, secret rivers…

Sometimes we are told secrets by dreamlight

Sometimes we are visited and sometimes we pray

And sometimes

for a few seconds

we hit one of the unsmooth wrinkles

a feedback loop of time

emits time. Emits time. Emits time.

It is a liquid Magic.

Time.

Magic.

The moon is coaxing our waters.

Our waters are hungry for the kiss of the moon.

Somewhere, deep in the middle of it all

there is a magnetic storm that has been

Going for billions of years the likes of which can only be imagined

keeping us rotating, keeping us balanced

it is scientifically unexplainable-

and yet, it runs the planet

we are on the surface calm,

absorbing the very energy that runs the engines in our cells

the mother earth burns for us and nurtures us with the other magic, life.

There is a song

The human nature

Emanating away Across the void

A life song of energy

Joining the chorus, we play our part mostly in tune

With the everything

The beating drums of the quantum mechanics

The tremedous heartbeats of the suns making love,

Creating suns of suns of suns.

Time. Gravity. Electromagnetic force. Nuclear blueprints.

We carry in our cells the frequencies, the secrets of eternity...

Mirrors. Seeds. Skies. Planets. Words. Love.

It never sleeps.

It is so vast that the greatest minds can not even pretend to imagine...

The scope.

Yet we all understand laughter.

We all understand pain.

We all understand truth.

We all understand the smile lines upon the face of the mother, the face of the wife.

Rolling dough in the kitchen, she fights her own battle with time

As only a creator can understand...

One with the tremendous power to give life from her life-

It is called intuition.

It is a gift, no less than magic, It is molecular.

And sacred.

And real.

And powerful.

And true .

Once upon a time...

Everything started.

And we spend our lives working against the relentless

Steel and marble mechanics

The marching machines of forward

The armies of ever

Moving away at the farthest reaches,

too fast, too vast, too powerful to see...

And meanwhile...

Back at the Ranch,

Back on the Tiny Blue Orb we call

-home-

Man and Woman create life-

new heartbeats, new faces, new eyes, and new voices and rhythms

New joys and new futures,

each one a promise that with us, life will not end,

our blood will continue to run, into the approaching when

a promise of the fight inside us,

a promise to offer our fragile bodies,

and hopes and dreams against the seas of infinity,

where all promises are kept, and all promises are broken,

where all our lives will amount to the same net sum,

where our worth in the void is incalculable,

and infinite, and whole,

a single note humming on forever, and ever, and ever.

The song of infinity…

A promise kept, where and when there shall no longer be pain.

Or hunger. Or lies. Or needs.

We bring forth our resource, our race, all that we can do

We are adding to the army that fights against the onward press of time, the emperor, and thief, the great deconstructor.

We paint our houses And seal our windows against the weather,

$ave up our dollar$, bury our bones, and clean our feathers

We check off days, on our calenderns, to measure- What?

What is our hope?

Our life is the battle against time,

against aging

Against weathering and change

Attempting to maintain order

against the nature of nature which is chaos-

the great winding down and coming apart

until there is no potential and all is uniform,

as it was-

before.

-RS Petranek

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Reviewed by Richard Bowers 11/16/2012
INTO THE ABYSS
Unpardon me but I relent it boldly;
For it is far ahead, if I can be sure of it,
And far it is, that my hallucination be valid,
And hallucination it is, as it should be,
And however, unlike itself, mysterious, unknown, and untested,
So it be foreseen in my tireless search.



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